


Lost

by Warbond (callmecirce)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmecirce/pseuds/Warbond
Summary: After Hawkmoth is defeated, a wounded Adrien disappears without a word. Years later, he quietly returns to Paris, and Marinette discovers his whereabouts only by chance.  It's a good thing, too, because it looks like she's going to need his help.





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This is my husbands first experiment with a longer fic. He's having fun with it, but readily admits that he has no idea where this is going. Enjoy the ride with us! ~Circe

Ladybug's lithe body came closer, her hips swaying provocatively, her eyes smoldering with unmasked desire. Her skintight bodysuit left nothing to the imagination, and he drank her in, trying desperately to capture this moment, to etch it in his memory. She pulled her mask off as she neared, put her hands on his shoulders, and leaned in close, her lips tickling the fine hairs on his ear. She inhaled softly and said, "Biiiing booooong."  
  
Adrien awoke with a start, staring at the ceiling, the blinding light streaming in from the shuttered window forcing him to squint. "What the fuck...?" he said to no one in particular, lifting his head to look around his room. The first thing he thought of was the disappointment of his lost dream. The second was the insistent throbbing of his erection. A close third was his overwhelming need to piss.  
  
The doorbell chimed again: _biiiiing booooong_. He groaned and sat up. Disentangling himself from the duvet, he swung his legs to the floor. He ran a hand over his scalp and snorted sleepily as he rose and plodded through his apartment to the front door. He found the intercom box and jammed the talk button with his thumb.  
  
"Yeah?" he said, his voice raspy with sleep.  
  
"Adrien?" the tinny voice replied. Female.  
  
"Yeah," he sighed, having an idea where this was going. He was already getting annoyed. He got up for this?  
  
"Adrien Agreste?" the voice asked hopefully.  
  
Adrien rolled his eyes. "Listen, whatever you're selling, whatever you want, I'm not interested."  
  
"I'm not--Adrien, it's me. Marinette."  
  
Adrien looked dumbly at the box, his thumb hovering over the button. Images of his dream flitted distractingly through his head.  
  
"Adrien? Please, I need to--" He interrupted her by pressing a green button at the bottom of the panel. The intercom replied with a beep and he could faintly hear the click of the main door followed by a buzzing from the hallway. Adrien sighed and thunked the deadbolt out of the way before turning the doorknob and pulling the door open slightly. He then turned and followed his hard-on to the bathroom to relieve himself.  
  
Adrien appraised himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He hadn't shaved since the morning prior and a dark shadow ran around the lower half of his face. He ran a wet hand over his face and through his buzzed hair, fingering the scar still visible there, briefly recalling the last time he had seen Marinette. How long had it been? Two years? Three? He could hardly remember. They were on good enough terms, but it was hardly the farewell he'd had in mind when he decided to give up his alter ego and focus on getting his life together. He laughed at the thought ruefully as he rifled through the hamper, sniffing and discarding garments in turn. He finally decided that a faded pair of jeans wasn't too bad when he heard his front door shut. Hurriedly stepping into them and pulling the zipper up, he rediscovered why he hadn't gotten around to washing them: the button was missing and there was a tear in the thigh. He slumped his shoulders in defeat, decided it would have to do, then reached for the door handle, bracing himself for the looming encounter.  
  
He chickened out at the last second. "Just a minute," he called, "just need to grab a shirt." But his curiosity got the better of him and he stole a glance towards the front door as he headed back to his bedroom. It took him a second to process what he'd just seen and he jerked his head back around to gawp at the figure standing in his living room, his quest for a shirt forgotten for the moment.  
  
Marinette stood in all her glory just inside his apartment, a hand clutching the strap of the purse draped over one shoulder, the fingers of her other hand tucked into the miniscule pocket of her jeans. Jeans that hugged powerful thighs and deliciously rounded hips. Her forest green shirt clung to her narrow waist and strained at the full breasts Adrien was certain she hadn't had before, barely concealed by the brown jacket she was wearing. Her dark hair curled slightly as it fell over her shoulders in waves, framing her angular face. Gone was the cherubic young woman he'd known several years before, only to be replaced with this absolute vision. Adrien's mind reeled for a way to describe her, a way to categorize her. He'd always thought she was beautiful, but he'd never imagined she could change this much in such a short amount of time. The dream she had woken him up from tugged at his mind as he clamored for something to say.  
  


* * *

  
Marinette radiated outward calm, her hip cocked carelessly to the side, a practiced look of quiet tolerance on her face. Boredom, she thought to herself. I'll just look bored when I see him. All of that is ancient history. And it's not like I'm coming here because I want to. Just focus on the reason you're here, Marinette. Besides, look at this apartment! How could he let himself live in such a tiny place?  
  
Nervousness was eating at her. She'd practiced her speech the entire drive through the city. She'd considered taking the bus, but she had errands to run anyway, which is how she was trying to treat this visit: as an errand. Something she didn't really want to do but she knew needed to be done. Sort of a last resort, really, since she had no one else to turn to for the teensy, tiny, completely catastrophic problem she was having.  
  
She'd gotten lost on the way to the apartment complex, a set of uniform gray buildings in an otherwise industrial area on the outskirts of Paris. Strange smells made their way into her little coupe as she navigated the dirty, graffitied streets. She checked and double checked her phone's GPS and looked uncertainly at the six-story building before shouldering her purse and stepping out onto the street. A dirty looking man eyed her lasciviously as she jogged up the front steps to the glass door leading to an empty foyer. Checking the handwritten names listed next to an ancient intercom system, she finally pressed the button for 1B and waited. After the second try she thought about just pressing all of the buttons in the hopes that somebody would just buzz her in without thinking about it when her thoughts were interrupted by Adrien's gruff but unmistakable voice.  
  
Making her way inside she stood for long moments in the hallway staring at the slightly opened door, steeling herself for the encounter. Slowly she pushed her way inside to find an immaculately clean albeit small apartment. Scuffed laminate flooring covered the entryway and sprawled into the dining area and living room before giving way to tile in the kitchen. Modest assemble-at-home furniture dotted the living space and she marveled at how spotless everything was, especially considering that it was, as far as she could tell, a bachelor pad. There were two pairs of shoes just inside the door, and both appeared to be men's, but that didn't exactly prove anything. With the slight exception of the cleanliness, given the spartan look of the space, the austere walls, and the general lack of decoration, the whole area seemed to lack a woman's touch. Not that she cared. She was just being observant.  
  
She had just decided on boredom as her go-to look when what appeared to be a chiseled mass of muscle lumbered quietly out of the bathroom. He said something as he stalked toward the darkened bedroom, but she didn't catch it. She was too busy admiring the angular curves of his arms and the rippling muscles and scars crisscrossing his back when he turned his upper body to stare at her. It was nearly a pose, the way he turned, highlighting his abdomen and drawing particular attention to the low-slung jeans clinging desperately to his hips. The hair, the five o'clock shadow, even the rip in his jeans, they all combined to form a dangerously distracting look. Where was the boy she knew? Who was this man?


	2. What are you doing here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The former partners' first interaction in six years gets off to a rocky start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am serving as his beta reader, so please let me know if I missed anything glaring. ~Circe
> 
> edit, 6/12/17: I've corrected the formatting, so hopefully it's easier to read now. ~Circe

Adrien felt strangely naked under Marinette's inscrutable gaze, his very thoughts laid bare before her. Well, perhaps not so strange, given his current state of undress, but he still felt the need to protect himself against her.  
  
"Uh, just a second," he muttered, tearing his eyes away from her finally and proceeding into his bedroom. He pushed the door closed behind him, something he didn't normally do. Who would he need privacy from? He just wanted an additional barrier between himself and the goddess who had appeared out of nowhere in his apartment, between his past and his present.  
  
Adrien pulled open a dresser drawer and grabbed the first thing that had a shirt-like appearance. In this case it was a light gray, long-sleeve cotton shirt with three buttons running down from the neck. He unfolded it and pulled it over his head, absently pulling the sleeves up his forearms as he prepared to endure what was sure to be an awkward conversation.  
  
Stepping once more into the hallway, he pulled the door closed behind him, maintaining the security of his inner sanctum. There was nothing much in there to see, but he felt better knowing that there was more than just social nicety preventing her from seeing an essential part of his privacy.  
  
Marinette was thankfully engrossed in perusing the knick-knacks topping a small bookcase as he entered the living room, giving him another opportunity to run his eyes over her body. It was strange seeing her again, stranger still since he hardly recognized her. But he knew her well enough to know that her stance was one of studied nonchalance. She was nervous about something. Could it be him?  
  
"Coffee?" He asked, turning suddenly to the kitchen. He wasn't sure he could face her directly yet.  
  
Marinette's head jerked around, pulled from her examination of the small figurines. She hadn't heard him come back in.  
  
"Oh, uh, no. Thank you, though. It's... one in the afternoon," she managed finally, checking her watch in confusion. "Did I wake you up?"  
  
"No, no," he insisted, then paused. "Well, yes. But... Don't worry about it," he finished lamely. Deciding against coffee, he closed the cabinet and put his hands on the counter, trying to think of what to say next.  
  
Nothing came immediately to mind. Hi? How are you? I'm sorry I never called? As he thought about it he became irritated. Why is she even here? Haven't I given enough? Can't I just leave this all behind me, finally move on? Adrien's hand clenched into fists on the counter, then slowly relaxed.  
  
"Adrien..." Marinette started hesitantly, concern obvious in her voice. The way she said his name sent chills up his spine. Nobody, it seemed, had said his name like that in a long time. A very long time. "Is everything okay?"  
  
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting it out in a sigh. "No," he said, turning towards her. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. "What are you doing here, Marinette?"

 

* * *

  
  
Marinette's brow furrowed. She had expected a lot of different reactions, but this wasn't one of them. Every possible scenario she had talked herself through on the way over hadn't prepared her for that question. She instantly became angry.  
  
"What am *I* doing here? What are *you* doing here?" She gestured vaguely, indicating the apartment and the neighborhood. The floodgates had been broken and words came spilling out unbidden. She asked him the questions she'd wanted to ask for years. "Where have you been, Adrien? Why the hell did you disappear? Why did you leave us?"  
  
The room sounded strangely quiet and she realized she'd raised her voice, her fingernails digging into her palms. Her chest was heaving and tears welled in her eyes. This wasn't going at all how she planned. She inhaled a shaky breath, trying to force herself to calm down.  
  
Adrien grunted. "Us?" he said monotonously. "You mean you and Jean-Luc?"  
  
She blanched. "No, I mean--what does he have to do with it anyway?" Anger turned to fury as she spoke. "What did you expect me to do? End my relationship because you're the famous fucking Chat Noir? Drop everything to be with you?" This was spiraling out of control, but she didn't care. She could finally feed the latent fire of her sense of betrayal. She could finally confront him.  
  
"You knew how I felt about you," he accused.  
  
"I knew how *Chat* felt about Ladybug! How was I supposed to know you were Chat? How was I supposed to know that you knew who I was? You never talked to me!"  
  
Adrien pushed himself away from the counter and pointed a finger at her. "We talked all the time! That's all we ever did! Don't blame me for your willful ignorance."  
  
"Oh, that's real rich, coming from you. I practically threw myself at you. For years!"  
  
"What, laughing at my jokes? Touching my arm? You were my best friend, how was I supposed to interpret that? And you made it very clear how much you wanted me when you latched on to that sob-story Jean-Luc."

"Oh, Jesus, really? Are you that dense? I made every excuse to even be _near_ you. I wore practically nothing when we _slept in the same bed together_! I literally got naked in front of you. Twice! Don't be mad that you practically rejected me at every turn. Jean-Luc was always my  
second choice, but _he_ was actually there when I needed a friend. He was there when _you_ left."  
  
Adrien was silent for a moment. He wasn't ready to concede the point, but he knew she was right. He'd messed it up. Ignored or misinterpreted the signs.  
  
"So that's it then?" He said sullenly. "You just give up on me because I didn't want to lose you as a friend?" It was an unfair and illogical argument, but he wasn't about to let logic get in the way of his anger.  
  
"Give up on you? Says the guy who disappeared--without a word to anyone, including, of course, his so-called 'best friend'--for _six years_."  
  
Adrien looked up sharply. Six years? Had he really been out of touch for the last six years? So much had happened since then, and most of it seemed a blur. Was it really possible?  
  
"I had to, Marinette." He said softly, his shoulders slumping. He suddenly looked almost pathetic, dejected. But instead of inciting sympathy it only made Marinette angrier. What right did he have to feel dejected?  
  
"Had to? Had to cut and run? Do you know how much bullshit I had to deal with after you left? Everybody blamed *us* for what happened, except _you_ weren't there to take the brunt of it like I was. I had to work my ass off to get back in the public's good graces, and it's not like those buildings cleared or repaired themselves!"  
  
Adrien remembered. He'd seen the news coverage of the aftermath. Normally Ladybug would use her powers to restore any damage done during their fight, but the return of HawkMoth proved more challenging than their previous encounter; he'd used a sparrow charm to disable their magical abilities, which made for some tense moments. Luckily, Tikki and Plagg had a few tricks up their sleeves or else all would have been lost. Unluckily, the city couldn't be magically restored to its former glory. That had taken years of blood, sweat, and tears from the residents, who had lost more than just their homes. Thousands had died in the attack.  
  
Adrien idly rubbed a jagged scar on his forearm. He'd been beat up pretty badly during the fight. He'd woken up in the hospital, one of the many victims of that day, albeit a bit better cared for given his father's wealth. His memory was still fuzzy about how they'd managed to win, though he heard the story retold enough to fill a lifetime. Hell, there were about a dozen books written on the subject. He did, however, clearly remember the feeling of isolation after that pyrrhic victory, surrounded by his friends, blithely celebrating his return home days after the fact.  
  
He'd never felt more alone. Especially seeing Marinette with Jean-Luc. It was more than he could bear.  
  
"Well?" Marinette asked impatiently, her arms crossed. Adrien was pulled from his reverie, his eyes refocusing.  
  
"I..." He began, but then faltered. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin and his buttonless jeans, his arm bulging enticingly. "I'm sorry, Marinette."  
  
Marinette inhaled to say more, but then seemed to deflate. Her anger fled her as quickly as it had come. She was reminded of the boy she once knew, the kind young man she had grown to trust and love. He was still inside there somewhere, but she had failed to see him inside the callous image she had created for him.  
  
Adrien was hoping for more from her, but was disappointed. He'd done nothing to explain his actions, and he doubted that she would understand anyway, but Marinette wasn't yelling any more, so he took it as a good sign. He found himself wanting to mend their relationship. Maybe that was impossible now, but having her here, in front of him, talking to him, he realized how sorely he'd missed her company. He searched for more neutral ground.  
  
"Has it really been six years?" he asked softly, leaning back and grabbing the edge of the counter behind him, eyes downcast.  
  
Marinette pursed her lips and nodded, her arms still crossed under her breasts. "Yeah," she said finally.  
  
"And... how are things with Jean-Luc?" He didn't want the answer, but he had to know. He mentally winced at his lack of subtlety. He glanced up at her, waiting for her response.  
  
Marinette surprised him by smiling. "We, ah, we broke it off a while ago."  
  
"Oh," he said, trying and failing to sound appropriately saddened by the news. "That's... terrible? Why are you smiling?" Her infectious smile made Adrien's face break into a grin as well.  
  
Marinette barked a laugh. "Turns out," she said, a hand moving to cover her face, "he's gay."  
  
Adrien's eyes bulged and his eyebrows tried to climb off of his face. Marinette, watching his reaction from behind her hand, started giggling. Adrien's grin widened and he started laughing, too. Slowly, at first, but their mirth seemed to rebound off of each other and build. Soon Marinette was doubled over and Adrien had his head thrown back, deep belly laughs rolling through the apartment.  
  
There was a loud banging from the apartment next door followed by an unintelligible yell. Adrien and Marinette both froze, eyes widened, eyebrows raised. He looked at her and she sputtered, clamping a hand over her mouth, then the dam broke and they laughed some more, laughed together like nothing had ever come between them, like the events of the past six years were just a bad dream and they had finally woken up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ice is broken, they talk, and Mari finally gets around to the reason for her visit.

Marinette sat at one end of the couch, her back resting against the armrest and her legs folded beneath her while Adrien lounged at the other end, his feet propped up on the coffee table, one armed draped lazily on the backrest.  
  
Their conversation was easy, but not as easy at it once would have been. It was tentative on both ends as they felt each other out, reestablishing their broken connection. Adrien wasn't exactly vague, but nor did he seem very forthright in the retelling of his adventures since he left Paris.  
  
"Peru?" Marinette echoed, astonished. "Why Peru?"  
  
"Oh, it's beautiful there, Marinette. You would have loved it. You know, I thought about..." He shook his head once, as though clearing it. "Well, it was nice. You know they don't have proper water drainage in Lima? Like, none at all. They only get rain--real rain--about once every thirty years. When it rains there it's a major ordeal."  
  
"Yeah?" She wasn't interested in the annual precipitation of Peru, but he was cute when he was nerding out, so she let him go at his own pace. Despite everything, she was enjoying herself, enjoying being with Adrien again.  
  
"And of course since I was down that way I had to hit up Rio, and I made it up to the Caribbean, and..." he trailed off, looking at her. She was watching him with a strange expression. "What?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to..." she started. "I don't know. I don't want to criticize you, but none of this sounds very... troubled? It just sounds like a vacation." She shrugged helplessly. "And with everything we had to deal with back here..." She dropped her hands back into her lap. "God, I'm making it sound like a competition."  
  
Adrien shook his head. "No, it's fine," he assured her. "I do sound like a spoiled rich kid, don't I?" He rested his elbows on his knees and wrung his hands together. He turned his head to look at her. "I guess... Looking back on it, I have trouble remembering the--the bad parts. I know I'm not making it sound all that bad, because I've been excited about sharing this with somebody for... a long time. When I was out there, though...? When I left I was basically on my own for the first time. Completely on my own. I didn't know the language, the customs... And after the first week my dad basically cut me off."  
  
"Cut you off? Like, financially?" Marinette said, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"Like everything-ly. Financially at first, sure, but he eventually wrote me off completely. He somehow had the court declare me legally dead," he said with a laugh.  
  
"God. The lengths that man goes to..." Marinette shook her head in wonder.  
  
Adrien was quiet for a moment. "Well, went to," he said somberly.  
  
"Went to...?" Confusion marred her delicate features.  
  
"Yeah, he..." Adrien dropped his eyes to his hands, rubbing them softly together. "By the time I got back, he was already gone."  
  
Marinette was confused. More than confused. "Gone?" He nodded without looking at her. "You mean like, dead?" Adrien spread his hands in a gesture that seemed to ask if there was another definition. Marinette shook her head slowly. "Adrien, that's not true. The papers have been talking for a couple of years about how sick he's been, sure, but... My magazine ran an article just two months ago about Fashion Week, and he featured very prominently in it. He was even quoted about the Agreste fall line."  
  
He gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know."  
  
She blinked at him. "I don't understand."  
  
"My father had some powerful connections. We learned *that* the hard way, didn't we?" He smiled briefly at the memory before continuing. "The company kept it out of the media because it didn't fit in with their 'five year plan.' I suspect they'll announce it sometime before next spring's fashion season. Playing the sympathy card ought to make them more money."  
  
The silence stretched between them, neither one willing to break it just yet. Oddly, it wasn't as uncomfortable as it should have been, given the subject matter.  
  
Adrien eventually slapped his hands on his knees and stood, pacing to the small bookshelf that Marinette had been looking at before. "Anyway," he continued, "it wasn't all private jets and five-star hotels." He picked up a spiraling shell about the size of a golf ball. "It was a struggle, most of the time. I made it to Africa before my money ran out, and from there... I met a lot of good people, most of them just struggling to survive. Just trying to do the best they could for themselves and their families."  
  
"Then again," he set the shell down and picked up a brown stained and beat up Gideon's Bible, "I met a lot of people who were trying take as much power for themselves as possible, regardless of the consequences." Adrien stuck his index finger into a pinky-sized hole that went clean through the small book then smacked the book a couple of times into his other hand, lost in thought.  
  
"Sounds like there's a story there," Marinette prompted.  
  
"Oh, definitely." He tossed the book back onto the shelf. "There are stories for all of these things," he gestured to the dozen or so items on the shelf. "And a few more in my room. And more that I couldn't smuggle back into Europe."  
  
"Oh my. Smuggling, Mr. Agreste?" Marinette said with a smile. "You *have* had an interesting time, haven't you?"  
  
He smiled back at her. "I'd say. It got *real* interesting after I found out that I died. Most of the time showing my passport was like a get out of jail free card. A French passport is much respected globally. After I was declared dead...?" He became more serious. "Not so much. Not for anywhere with any sort of technology, at least. It nearly landed me in jail that first time," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck, "but one of the border officials was a big fan of my, er, more risqué work."  
  
"What, that set you did for the cologne company? But they only released the one picture, and I wouldn't call that terribly risqué" she laughed, perplexed.  
  
Adrien laughed, too. "This guy somehow had a whole photo album! I'm surprised I made it out with my innocence!" They were both still smiling when Adrien plopped back down on the couch.  
  
"Okay, I have to admit," she said slowly, "that's a bit different from what I originally imagined. But... still. Why leave at all? Wouldn't you have avoided all of that if you had just stayed? The money, the smuggling. The whole being legally dead thing?"  
  
He smiled again, which made Marinette smile. He seemed so much like himself--his old self--when he was smiling, not the massive brooding hulk she walked in on an hour before.  
  
"Hey, I only smuggled myself, thank you," he said defensively. "Well, technically, a very nice Ukrainian family smuggled me, but the point stands." Marinette rolled her eyes. "But yeah, hindsight being what it is, I'd have to agree with you. But... you know how I was. An akuma had to practically fall into my lap before you convinced me to go back to being Chat Noir to begin with. Once we beat HawkMoth again... I don't know. I just felt... incomplete. Nino had Alya, you had Jean-Luc... Where did I fit in? With my injuries there was no way I could go back to modeling again. I mean, look at these scars," he said, indicating his arm and his head in turn. He sat back against the couch and sighed. "I could barely walk. I was a burden. I guess I just felt that everyone would be better off without me. So, instead of doing something... more permanent," he shrugged, "I left."  
  
"Adrien, that's not--" Marinette began.  
  
Adrien forestalled her with a hand. "I know, I know. Believe me. I've had plenty of time to think about it. It was stupid and selfish of me. I get that. It felt like the right thing to do at the time. The--the easiest way, if that makes sense. I couldn't handle the double life like you did. That's why I gave it up the first time. And plus, with He Who Shall Not Be Named gone, why did I need to try anymore?" He dropped his hands into his lap once more and studied his fingers, avoiding eye contact.  
  
She watched him as the seconds ticked by, gathering her thoughts. What he said *did* make a strange sort of sense. She tried to imagine it from his perspective, but she couldn't get past one detail.  
  
"You were my friend, Adrien. My best friend. Yes, I had feelings for Jean-Luc, and I can see why that would upset you, but that doesn't change anything. We fought and nearly died together countless times. I relied on you, and you just... Poof. Gone. No note, no call... I'm sorry, I know I'm not making you feel any better. And," she searched for the right words, "I do... I think I can understand why you felt you had to leave, but *you* have to understand how much that absolutely *killed* me inside." Marinette looked down and took a shaky breath. "After everything we'd been through, I..." She sniffed as her nose began to run. She took another deep breath then looked back at Adrien, her eyes red. "I thought I'd lost you."  
  
Adrien winced as she spoke. It hurt him to know that this pain was his fault, that he hadn't fully considered the ramifications of his flight from his home and his friends. He'd spent so long justifying his actions to himself that he had been able to convince himself that he was the blameless victim.  
  
He looked up as Marinette brushed a tear from her cheek and sniffled again. The sight wrenched his gut. He felt a physical ache seeing her in that sort of emotional pain. Pain that he caused. He sat up and pulled himself closer to her end of the couch. He hesitated a moment before holding out his arms to her. It was an act of supplication, a plea for forgiveness.  
  
Marinette, for her part, did not hesitate. She practically fell into him and twined her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she pulled herself into his lap. Adrien overlapped his arms behind her back and covered as much of her as he could, just to be touching her again. She felt so tiny in his arms, more so than she ever had.  
  
An immediate feeling of calm came over her as she was enveloped in the security of his embrace. It felt strange to be pulled in close to somebody who was so familiar and simultaneously so alien, but not unpleasantly so. All at once Marinette felt untouchably safe.  
  
They held each other for a long time, Adrien resting his chin on Marinette's head, trying not to become intoxicated by the simple clean scent of her shampoo. His heart was pounding. He had never let himself dream that he would even see her again, much less that she would be in his arms, even for a moment. The years between them slipped further away and he felt like he was a teenager again, embracing her for the first time.  
  
Marinette shifted her head and took a long, shuddering breath against his chest. "Why didn't you call, Adrien? Why didn't you let us know you were back?"  
  
Adrien slowly rubbed Marinette's back and took a breath to speak, then thought better of it and released it. He inhaled again only to let his breath out in another frustrated puff.  
  
Finally, he started.  
  
"Once I got back, I just... I felt like I didn't have anything. Or anyone. I'd spent so long being on my own, I guess I just figured that nobody would really miss me. So I came here. I told myself that after I was settled I would get in touch with Nino and... Well, you, I guess." He sighed and pressed his cheek to the top of Marinette's head. "I just kept finding one more thing to do, one more reason why it wasn't the right time. Eventually I felt like I'd waited *too* long, and to show up would be... worse, somehow. It was one thing if I'd just gotten back, but if I'd already been here for six months? A year? That would have been worse, you know?" She nodded against his chest. "So... I put it off. I'm so sorry, Marinette. I didn't mean for it to be like this."  
  
Marinette pulled herself away from him and wiped absently at the dark stains her teary eyes left on his shirt. "Oops," she said, almost to her self. She looked up at him. "I'm sorry, too." Her voice was thick from not breathing through her nose. She looked up and wiped her fingers carefully under her eyelids, sniffing again. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said, wiping again at his shirt.  
  
He laughed softly, "It's okay. I kind of deserved it."  
  
Marinette got a perplexed look on her face and went from wiping at his shirt to poking his chest with an index finger, her tears and runny nose forgotten. "Where did *this* come from?"  
  
Adrien looked down. She wasn't pointing at anything in particular, just poking at his chest. "What? My chest?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, confused. "You're massive."  
  
"Oh," he said, blushing. "I... do a lot of heavy lifting at work." Marinette smiled at his reddening face, then her jaw dropped.  
  
"Adrien Agreste *works*?"  
  
"I have to make money somehow," he said simply. "No more trust fund, remember?"  
  
"But can't you get that, I don't know, reversed?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm working on it, but... I don't know. It's just not that important to me. My life is simple like this. I like simple."  
  
"I guess it doesn't help that you're dead, huh?"  
  
"Well, I'm not dead anymore, actually. I can legally get paid now, and legally pay for this extravagant apartment," he said, gesturing to their cramped surroundings, "but I still can't vote or get my passport renewed. So I guess I'm just *mostly* dead. But yeah, I work."  
  
"At one of the factories around here? What do you do?"  
  
Adrien smoothed the fabric of the couch cushion next to him, first one way, then the other, watching the colors shift subtly. "I, ah, I'm a baker, actually."  
  
Marinette slapped a hand against his chest and giggled. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"Hey," he said woundedly, "It's a noble and respected profession, especially in the heart of the culinary world!"  
  
"So you got so big by lifting croissants?" she asked in disbelief.  
  
"I know you, of all people, aren't talking shit about the physical demands of baking. You think a single giant bag of flour is heavy? Try lifting hundreds every night."  
  
"You work in one of those god-awful en masse baking places? So *you're* the reason my parents are struggling to keep the heat on each winter?" She wasn't smiling anymore.  
  
Adrien's eyes widened. "No, I--No. We--We only sell to--"  
  
Marinette rolled her eyes. "Relax, Beefcake, I'm messing with you. I have no problem with cardboard-tasting, mass produced loaves of weeks old bread being peddled by your so-called bakery. There's plenty of room for that crap *and* the artisanal, locally sourced, moist and delicious fluffy loaves my parents make." She smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. "Especially in the heart of the culinary world."  
  
Adrien closed his eyes in relief, then frowned. "I think it's good," he said in a small voice.  
  
"Oh, Adrien," she said, finally unfolding herself from his lap and standing, "one day we'll refine your pallet. Then you'll know what good really is."  
  
He looked up at her. "What about you?"  
  
"What about me?"  
  
Adrien briefly considered mentioning her rather well developed form. It was only fair, after all. He still couldn't believe she was the same person. But something in her body language told him she wasn't quite ready for that, and despite how well everything was going, or maybe because of it, he wasn't ready to test those waters just yet.  
  
"Er, your--wait, how did you find me?" Being dead and all, he wasn't listed anywhere that he knew of.  
  
"Oh, I've known you were here for months."  
  
It was Adrien's turn to drop his jaw. "Months...? But... How?"  
  
"I guess Plagg and Tikki found each other as soon as you came back. I happened to walk in on a conversation they were having about... four months ago? Somewhere around there. They spilled the beans on their secret meetings and I found out where you were from Plagg." Marinette suddenly put a hand on her forehead and scrunched up her eyes. "Oh, fuck."  
  
Concern bloomed on Adrien's face. "What is it?"  
  
She put both hands on either side of her head. "I've been sitting her flirting with you and I completely forgot about the reason I was here!"  
  
Adrien was more confused than ever. "What? I..."  
  
"It's Tikki," she said bluntly, "she's gone."  
  
"Wait..." Adrien said slowly, processing the information. "You were flirting with me?"


	4. Comparing Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strictly speaking, I think this should have been at the end of the last chapter, but I am sharing these segments as he gives them to me. It's either that, or sit on all of it until he's done, and then try to figure out how to break it into chapters. I'm hoping you'll all approve of my choice. ~Circe

Marinette gave Adrien a look that said ‘ _Are you fucking kidding me?_ ’ Not only should it have been painfully obvious—she had been sitting in his _lap_ —but for him to zero in on that part of her statement was baffling. Though, now that she thought about it, it did explain a lot about him.

 

Adrien shook his head and said, “Sorry, I mean—what do you mean she’s gone?”

 

Marinette began to pace. She clamped an arm across her chest and rested her other elbow on it, rubbing the knuckle of her thumb across her lips as she gathered herself, a habit she picked up who knew where. It seemed to help her think. Adrien’s gaze followed her around the small living room as she paced.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say _gone_ exactly. Just,” she gestured with her hand as she talked, “not where she’s supposed to be. Err, not where I thought she’d be. Or maybe not where I thought she was supposed to be.”

 

He blinked at her. “What?”

 

Marinette stopped pacing and turned to Adrien, worry evident on her face. “Tikki left me a note, which isn’t _that_ unusual, but she said she’d be back in a few _days_. Ever since I became Ladybug I don’t think we’ve been apart more than a few _hours_ , at most, and that was only when…” she glanced at him as she trailed off, thought better of what she was going to say, then waved the thought away. “Nevermind. Anyway, now I’m worried.”

 

Adrien’s expression became serious and he leaned forward. “Tell me everything you know.”

 

Marinette sighed, then sat heavily into the only other chair in the room. It wasn’t terribly comfortable and she doubted now that it had ever really been used. She reached for her purse on the coffee table and pulled it into her lap, yanking open the clasp. She began rifling through it as she spoke, holding it open with one hand and moving the contents around with the other.

 

“Yesterday morning, when I woke up, I went to grab a breakfast cookie for Tikki, just like always, but when I checked her bed, instead of a sleeping kwami I found a note. Ugh,” she said in frustration, collapsing the purse into her lap, “I must not have put it in here. But it said something to the effect of ‘I’m sorry, I have to check on something, I’ll be back in a few days.’”

 

Adrien rubbed the stubble on his chin, a reminder of how long it had been since Marinette saw him last. It had been a running joke in their circle of friends that Adrien used tweezers instead of a razor to get rid of the three or four stray chin hairs he owned. To see him with the beginnings of a full beard was startling, and, she had to admit, sexy as hell.

 

“Weird,” He said, looking up at her. Marinette looked away quickly. She couldn’t quite say why she didn’t want him to see her watching him so closely. “And you said that was yesterday morning?”

 

Marinette nodded. She had almost come straight here yesterday, but had convinced herself not to worry. Besides, if it was an emergency, Tikki wouldn’t have taken the time to leave a note, right? But then why—

 

“Then she still has another day to come back, right?” Adrien asked, interrupting her thoughts.

 

She nodded reluctantly. “Well, yes, but… This is very out of character for her. Something’s not right.”

 

Adrien shrugged, but seemed to accept her concern. “Okay,” he continued. “What’s the plan?” Marinette couldn’t help but smile. That was the Adrien she knew, and she felt better for having come to him, even through all of the awkwardness and drudging up of old memories. She knew that deep down he was a helper. It never seemed to matter who it was, Adrien would bend over backwards to help in any way he could.

 

“That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to talk to Plagg.”

 

* * *

 

Adrien thought furiously. He was hoping that the subject of Plagg just wouldn’t come up. It would have been easier that way. He realized that he was rubbing the back of his neck and made himself stop. Looking back at Marinette, he saw a note of concern in her eyes.

 

“Uh…” he began. He thought of and discarded about six different lies in the time it took Marinette to respond.

 

Marinette’s eyes narrowed. “Adrien,” she said suspiciously, “what aren’t you telling me?”

 

He stood, suddenly nervous. “Listen, I don’t think talking to Plagg will do you any good.” As though that was going to dissuade her.

 

“And why is that?” she said, her eyes still narrowed.

 

“Because… Plagg’s gone, too.”

 

“What?” she said, aghast. Marinette dropped her head into her hands. “This is worse than I thought.”

 

Adrien sighed resignedly. He could almost feel the distance between them growing again. “Marinette… I’m sorry you came all the way out here for nothing. And I’m sorry that Tikki left, but I’m sure she’ll be back,” he said, trying to console her. “Her note said as much, right? But…” _It’s better this way_ , he thought. _Better to make a clean break_. “I just don’t think I can help you. Plagg’s been gone for a long time. I don’t think he’s ever coming back. I was actually surprised to hear that he was in Paris. But look on the bright side,” he smiled sadly, “I don’t think our problems are related.”

 

She looked up from her hands. “Never coming back? But they can’t do that.”

 

Adrien pulled a face. “Just like we can’t lose our powers of creation and destruction?” He sat down in front of her on the coffee table, elbows on his knees. “Something happened that day, Marinette. Something that changed the rules. I know you and I never had a chance to talk about it, but Plagg and I did. He said he’d never seen anything like it before, and I’m willing to bet Tikki hasn’t either.”

 

Marinette nodded her silent confirmation. “So, what, he just… left?”

 

Adrien grimaced, “Something like that. Look, it’s a long story, but yes. He left.”

 

“Didn’t you try to use your Miraculous? Call him back?”

 

He chuckled softly. “It’s the first thing I tried. Even as he was telling me he was going to leave. It just… didn’t work.”

 

Marinette’s brow furrowed, thinking. “What about that ‘sparrow charm’ that HawkMoth had? Did you ever ask Plagg about that?”

 

“Yeah.” If Marinette was expecting more, he wasn’t about to offer it up. “You?”

 

“Tikki said it wasn’t supposed to exist, but she wouldn’t say anything else about it. What did Plagg say?”

 

Adrien hesitated. It was becoming apparent that he knew more about this than she did. One positive side effect of his self-induced isolation was that he had plenty of time to think as well as the freedom to explore. With only Plagg to talk to a majority of the time, he’d learned a lot. And that was enough to want to keep it to himself.

 

“Basically the same thing,” he said dismissively, sitting upright. She gave him a look, but didn’t say anything further.

 

“What about HawkMoth himself? When we… beat him, or killed him or whatever,” Marinette said, matching Adrien’s pose, “he… _exploded_ into all those birds. That definitely didn’t happen before.”

 

Adrien hadn’t seen that himself, but there was plenty of video evidence of the fact. He thought for a moment. “Well, he didn’t have the sparrow charm before.”

 

Marinette fell quiet and sat back. The silence expanded around them, each thinking their own thoughts, drawing their own conclusions. Adrien didn’t like where this was going. He looked around his apartment, mentally cataloguing the furniture and the minor decorations he’d put together to make things feel more like home. He couldn’t help but be proud. It was modest, but that was okay, because it was _his_. He’d never really felt the same sense of ownership before, not even for the things he purchased with the money he earned modeling.

 

Looking back at Marinette, he knew it was all going to change. As soon as he heard her voice on the intercom, he knew. His gaze fell to the bookshelf and the items lovingly displayed there and it drew his mind back to the years he’d spent struggling to survive, always on the move. Settling back in Paris had been exactly what he needed, an uncomplicated return to normalcy. Or at least as normal as he was likely to get.

 

He felt his chest tighten as he considered the consequences of Marinette’s visit. To willingly thrust himself back into the fight between good and evil felt like a betrayal to everything he had fought for. He frowned at the thought. He knew better than to think of good and evil in such concrete terms. Experience taught him that it was never that easy.


End file.
